


In the Absence of the Prodigal

by threewalls



Series: Schirra [19]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: 704 OV, Archades, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Multi, Possession, Solidor!Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-17
Updated: 2009-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><cite>There are girls of all colours and shapes in Vayne's <em>harem</em>-- a Rozarrian word, or so Cidolfus would hazard a guess, for few Archadians would choose to house all their mistresses in one basket, or rather, apartment.</cite></p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Absence of the Prodigal

There are girls of all colours and shapes in Vayne's _harem_ \-- a Rozarrian word, or so Cidolfus would hazard a guess, for few Archadians would choose to house all their mistresses in one basket, or rather, apartment.

\---

It occurs to him when Venat asks him that that he cannot recall Ffamran's mother's name. Her hair was brown, her eyes... brown, as well, or no, grey, something colourless, he thinks, but if he's honest, even that is more deduction than memory. He has images, somewhere, surely.

Cidolfus cannot remember how old he was when he married. Somewhere around thirty would have been a suitable age, unremarkable, though the engagement would have been years before that. The match had been arranged by his mother, or perhaps both their mothers, as he understood was the way of things.

\---

He'd become used to finding someone in his bed on the odd occasion he returned home to sleep, warm, soft, always willing-- far more restful than negotiating with his fellow researchers, and less problematic than dipping into the technician pool. She'd kept the house well after his mother died, or at least Cidolfus only remembers thinking once, after both their deaths, that the house missed a woman's touch.

She'd given him three sons, two that died before they were old enough to be named, and Ffamran, who Cidolfus had named alone.

\---

At sixteen, Vayne had offered him Draklor, a phantasm to be grasped. At twenty-one, Vayne had granted him Draklor. No longer his student, but his patron.

Ffamran should have been there to see it, his Director's office, the fruits of Cidolfus' pilgrimage to the lost city of those that were as gods. If Ffamran had only known Her, but, ah-- these fruits were not to be taken lightly, forced upon a mind unprepared. Time was short, a mortal span and narrow, but time enough surely.

When Cidolfus turned for the office's door, the prince's mouth was an unyielding confusion upon his lips.

"Have I not been the more dutiful son?"

\---

The girl Vayne leads forward has brown hair, glittering with the nethicite beading that all his mistresses have in common. Her eyes widen when she straddles him, her untried flesh proving itself with the pain that all women must learn to endure. Her eyes are bright, like two chips of the stone and no colour Cidolfus can name.

When the whore's mouth opens, Her words resound within his skull.


End file.
